Chapter 6: Desperation Dictates

Disclaimer: Diana Gabaldon owns all rights to Outlander

Gesturing to a chair, Duncan bade me sit down. Officer Bayne then held out the telephone to me. I took it, but what was I to do wi' it? Did I havta put my finger in the little holes like I saw the other men do? I held the piece wi' the long black rope attached, and placed it to my head. Duncan straightaway took it from me and turned it opside down. I expect I had the wrong end to my ear.

Startled I was, to hear Claire … loud as ye please. If I had been at Leoch, I wouldha thought it was a spirit talkin' to me, or leastways, some type of witchcraft.

"Claire? Stars and stones, I hear ye as if ye were right beside me. Aye. Ye should see me, all dandied op in new clothes. I e'en shaved my face. All right then, if ye think that's best. When will she pick them op? Ah … weel, I'll no be goin' anawhere soon. That's for certain.

"D'ye swear to me truly, as ye're fine? Frank didna beat ye, did he? Good. Afore ye say g'bye, ye ken as I love ye, aye?"

I couldna help smilin' as she told me she loved me still.

I handed the thin' back to Bayne. "Claire says she'd like to speak to ye."

# # # # #

Jamie sounded in good spirits despite being incarcerated, but then, this jail was a far cry to what he'd been accustomed probably felt more like a vacation to him. At any rate, he apparently was weathering the storm more cheerfully than I was.

After talking to officer Bayne, I hung up the phone, and not a minute too soon, I might add. Frank was in the hall, keying the lock.

Staggering into the room, he plopped himself next to me on the edge of the mattress. "Still here, I see," he mumbled, his words slurring.

"Not hard, considering you locked me in here."

He tossed his head. "Is that so? Well, I almost expected to see the sheets knotted together and dangling from the casement. Not too enterprising are you?"

I scooted away from his side a little, and folded my hands in my lap. Frank reached over and touched me, fingering the wedding band that Jamie had given me. "What's this cheap piece of jewelry doing on your finger?"

"Jamie gave it to me."

"Take it off."

"I will not."

Frank, grabbed the ring and yanked it off my finger. Flinging it across the room, the pewter band bounced on the floor, finally rolling beneath the dresser.

"No!" I screamed at him. Down on my hands and knees, I scrambled along the carpet, brushing my hands under the dresser, searching for it.

With tears in my eyes, I found it and scooped up the symbol of my love for Jamie, slipping it once more onto my finger.

The words were hard in coming, but I said, "Frank, I can't stay here in this room with you. You can see that it's impossible. I need to be alone. Can you see if Mrs. Baird has another? I'll pay for it of course."

Leaning back onto his elbows, his head jiggled from side to side, as he smugly inquired, "And how do you propose to do that? You haven't so much as two pennies to rub together."

"I'll get a job; I'll wash dishes … anything. I'll pay you for the price of the room, I promise."

"You promise … what about, love, honor and obey? Were they not promises you made to me as well?"

"That was a long time ago. We're not the same people, Frank."

"And whose fault is that? I don't remember going anywhere, so if I've changed, it's due to your faithlessness."

"You said once that if I had been unfaithful, that you could forgive me."

Frank poked his finger toward me in accusation. "That was during the war. I could make allowances during the war, but not now. I don't think I can ever forgive you. You're worse than a whore. At least you know who you're lying with in that case. You don't open your heart to her so willingly, only to have it ripped from you, and crushed to oblivion. I trusted you, and you betrayed that trust."

"What do you want from me, Frank?"

"I don't know. Maybe I should talk to a lawyer and be rid of you."

"Perhaps you should. In the meantime, I wish to have a room of my own. If you won't do it, then I shall."

He picked up the phone and threw it crashing to the floor. "Do what you want. That always was your way, wasn't it? Take the damn suitcase with you when you leave also. I don't relish seeing your clothes lying about."

Mrs. Baird looked at my drunken husband swaying precariously in the doorway of one room, and after unlocking the adjoining one, handed the key to Frank. She gave us a quizzical look, but turned and walked down the stairs to the reception area. I could just imagine what she was thinking, but actually didn't give a fig about it. I took in my discarded clothes and the suitcase, shoving them inside the closet. My insufferable companion followed until I shut the door, and then—as he did previously—locked it.

In the evening, Frank rapped on the wooden panel. "I brought you some dinner."

The door opened and he walked in carrying a tray which he laid on the dresser. He exited the room promptly, relocking me away in my prison.

Surprisingly, exhaustion set in and I slept soundly. When morning dawned the next day, I hopped out of bed, and tapped on the double door dividing the two rooms. Frank … can you please let me out. I'd like to go downstairs and get some breakfast."

His voice boomed, "I think not. I'll bring something up to your room."

"This is utterly absurd. If you're going to divorce me, then for heaven's sakes, why can't I leave this blasted room?"

"Until I can contact a lawyer, and before I return to Oxfordshire, you'll stay in that room, because I bloody well wish it. You and your Scottish lover can languish in misery for the interim. I will not tolerate you running back to him the minute my back is turned."

I banged on the room access in frustration. "Franklin Randall—let me out of here. Do you hear me? Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ. If I get my hands on you, I will bloody well throttle you."

"Save your breath. I'm going down to breakfast."

Kicking the door in response, I screeched, "Ugh! You arrogant … Sassenach."

I sighed in defeat, and returned to the bed, flopping upon it. I heard his footsteps as he sauntered down the hall, and quickly grabbed the phone, dialing Mrs. Baird.

"Good morning, Mrs. Baird. Can you please put me through to Reverend Wakefield? It's urgent that I speak to him."

"Aye, Lass. I didna want to pry my nose into yer affairs, but I must say as I think it best to have a chat with the vicar. Dinna giveop hope. Many a marriage can be saved by listenin' to the words o' a spiritual advisor. But ye know, it's only the drink. It's a shame that so many couples that were once in love are torn apart by the bottle.

"I'll put ye through to him right quick. Oh, here comes the mister. I'll not say a word about this. Good luck to ye, Mrs. Randall."

The phone rang on the other end, and luckily for me, the vicar's housekeeper, Mrs. Graham answered. "This is Mrs. Graham speakin'. I'm verra sorry but the reverend is out and about visitin' his parishioners. Somethin' I can do for ye?"

"Yes, thank god. Mrs. Graham, I don't really need to talk to the Reverend; you are the very person I need to speak to. This is Claire Randall, do you remember me?"

"Aye, indeed. The police and your husband searched the hills hereabouts for ye. Glad to see that you made it home. Were you kidnapped, then?"

"Hardly. You better sit down, Mrs. Graham."

"Why dinna ye call me, Hannah, and may I call ye, Claire?"

"All right then, Hannah. I'll get to the core of it. What do you know about the standing stones at Craigh na Dun?"

"Are ye sayin'—"

"Yes, it's true. I traveled to 1743, but now I'm back. I fell in love with a highlander there named Jamie Fraser. I was forced to marry him, even though I was in fact, already married. The problem is, he found out my secret … that I had a husband here. He wanted to do the right thing, and return me to Frank. He made every effort, but couldn't let me go, and traveled with me here, and now he's been jailed at the 12th precinct. You're the only one that will believe me, and quite possibly be willing to help. I'm desperate. Frank has locked me in a room at Baird's Bed and Breakfast. I'll try to escape, but I don't know how long that will take."

There was a brief silence, and then Hannah, said, "Just tell me what I can do for ye, Claire."

"Jamie agreed to have you pick up his sporran, and weapons. There's a dirk, sgian dubh, and sword. Could you do that? And could you please keep them at your flat until I call for them?"

"That seems simple enough. But how, may I ask are ye goin' to extricate him from the jail?"

"I'm going to the precinct as soon as I get away from Baird's, and convince the officers that I'm not off my trolley, as Frank suggested. Maybe when they see I was never abducted, then they'll let Jamie go."

"Where will ye stay after he's freed?"

"I haven't thought that far ahead yet."

"Claire … ye can stay wi' me for a bit. No one need know. When the heat dies down, my cousin owns an out o' the way cottage near the borderline o' Inverness. It's out in the woods, with no electricity nor runnin' water, so no one would think to look there, I dinna expect."

"That would be perfect. Thank you, Hannah. I'll pay you for your assistance, of course."

"I'll no accept it. I'm only too glad to help ye. It's the Christian thin' to do. I'll go to the station this afternoon and collect those belongin's. I'll let the vicar know as I've errands to run. It's no really a little white lie, for this is an errand … of great importance."

"You have no idea how much this means to me."

"Think nothin' o' it. I'll let ye go now, as ye've got some serious plannin' to do."

"Good bye, Hannah. And thank you again. I'll see you as soon as I can. Oh, how stupid of me; your address …"

Part of my burden lifted as I got off the phone with that good woman. The pieces of the plan were falling into place quite nicely. And to think, Frank inadvertently helped in my clandestine endeavor by appearing at Baird's, totally pissed the night before.

When he arrived at my threshold with the food, I asked, "Can you at least get me some books or magazines so I won't die of boredom?"

Dropping the tray onto my outstretched hands, he turned and in a huff, slammed the door shut. A few minutes later, two magazines and a volume of War and Peace thudded to the floor, as he tossed them through a crack he'd opened in the doorway. Lovely … Could the man possibly act any more juvenile?

The walls were paper-thin, and I heard every move Frank made, from humming while he shaved, to showering, to talking on the telephone. Drat the man, would he never leave the room except to eat? I'd never get out of here at this rate. I had to stop feeling sorry for myself though. There was my poor Jamie befuddled by his surroundings, veritably drowning in a flood of queer inventions. Besides, I had to wait for Hannah to get her hands on my Scotsman's meager possessions, or I could do nothing, no matter how much time I had to proceed with my idea.